Page 98 of Clara Knows Best

“He’ll be back,” he said, unbothered.

“When?”

“I don’t know. Not too long.”

“For Christmas?”

He looked at her. That was all it took.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she agreed. “So, you don’t think I should be concerned that he’s leaving in a few days? Should I be cool about it? Should I make a pass? Should I go with him?”

He was quiet for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “Jesse has to work through some things on his own.”

“About Mom?”

“That. Work. Austin. You.”

“I can help him,” she said at once. “I’m his spirit gardener.”

But the Colonel shook his head.

“Then what? What can I do?”

“Just…be nice about it.”

She had not expected that answer. “Oh.”

“And be patient.”

“Okay.”

“A pass’ll backfire right now.”

She shuddered. “You’re sure?”

He nodded once. “Man’s a ball of stress. And guilt.”

No one understood what made people tick like her hyper-observant, thoughtful father, and she trusted his instincts even more than her own. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

He nodded again.

“I’m going to marry him,” she said.

He sighed. “I know, baby.”

She laughed, because she suddenly recalled saying so before, not once but several times, when she was a lot younger. “I mean it this time.”

“I know,” he said again.

36

Clara was gone with her father for hours, but by evening it was clear that she was taking pains to avoid Jesse. After being very quiet at dinner she excused herself to re-paint her fingernails, and her door was shut when he went up to bed later.

But on Sunday morning they passed each other in the upstairs hallway and she used the cardigan she was carrying to swat his rear. He whirled on her, snarling, “Woman, have you lost your mind?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were doing that now,” she replied innocently.

“No, we’re not doing that now!” he retorted.

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